


before the sun rises

by gingergenower



Series: the garrison [9]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, cutesies, so many spoilers for 3x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis and Anne wait for a letter from the front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before the sun rises

**Author's Note:**

> 3X10 SPOILERS OH GOD SO MANY SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED  
> (btw if you have any prompts for any of the canon couples in the show (I really struggle writing non-canon couples) lemme know in the comments :) )

Anne leant out of the open windows, the skies peach and pink in its sunset. Settled in bed, the dauphin- the king- slept, and she embraced a few moments alone. Being queen regent gave her more work than she’d known in her entire life, and she’d revelled in it, but she slept at night deep and long. 

She’d never seen him do it, but she was sure Aramis checked their son after she left every night. Quiet in his worship, his eyes never strayed from hers on kissing her hand, on bowing, but she’d said ‘our son’ in the privacy of her quarters and he’d closed his eyes, trying to capture the moment he could love them without fearing for their safety.

Reaching out, she took his hand. It seemed they had never been parted.

As the city settled, the new monarchy in place and the war nearly over, she found more moments to spend with both of them. Appreciating everything Louis did as king was easier when standing in his shoes, but he overspent in so many frivolous ways that she and Aramis paid off the debts left to them and found some money to invest in the veterans of the war and helping the refugees settle.

They’d achieved so much, but she hoped it was only the beginning.

“Your majesty,” Aramis said, closing the doors to her quarters behind him.

Smiling, she gestured that he join her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss below her ear and rested his chin on her shoulder. She shivered.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

The view of the gardens glowing suggested quiet, but birds still chirruped, silence impossible to come by. She found it didn’t matter so much, Aramis’ breath in her ear, and she rested her hands on his.

“So very,” he said.

“Have you heard from the front yet?” They expected a letter weeks ago.

Aramis cleared his throat, shifting. “Not yet.”

“Porthos will be well, only distracted.” Her hand soothed his. “You don’t need to fret.”

“I don’t _fret_ -”

“You fret about them, don’t even try to deny it.”

“Well, d’Artagnan is reckless and he’s going to get himself killed. It’s not unreasonable.”

Constance often dropped by, for and not for official visits, and made time whenever Anne could to tell the newest musketeer stories. The new cadets were doing beyond expectations, it seemed, and Anne intended to have a tournament soon to see if any were ready for the status of musketeer. D’Artagnan was oft mentioned in her stories, and seemed to be doing well himself.

“Are you telling me the musketeers will fail me?”

He never missed when she was teasing him, but it delighted him every time. Pulling her back and flush against him, he buried his face in her neck.

“Of course not. Your musketeers will never fail you,” he said, nose cold but lips warm and wet.

Dropping her head back, she laughed at his detailed exploration of the arch of her throat. “Then you have nothing to worry for, do you?”

He hummed, and she turned around in his arms, hands on his chest. His smile reminded her of her childhood- loud and bright and full of joy. She could not resist it, and why would she want to? Leading his chin upwards, she pressed her lips against his and wrapped her arms around the back of his head.

First to pull back, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“Truly,” she said, fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck. “We will hear from Porthos soon.”

He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Until we do…” Aramis only had so much room for worry. He could not fear for the lives of more than one person he loved at once.

“I will be here.”

Nodding, he kissed her forehead. “I must leave.”

Her grip kept him close. “I’d rather hoped you would stay.”

“I was seen entering. They will talk if I do not leave.”

Sighing, she kissed him deeply. Secure enough in the crown to creep a toe over the line, too fragile to step over it, the frustration overwhelmed her more than anything.

“Goodnight.”

On his leaving, the bright colours of sunset disappeared and dusk settled. She fell asleep quickly.

***

Awoken in the middle of the night, she sat bolt upright at heavy footsteps entering her room. Aramis hurried a bow, and held out a letter to her.

“It’s from the front.”

She took it, flicking it open and scanning through the words. “Porthos is well. They have taken in a great deal of prisoners, and it delayed his writing. He’s requesting that they are taken off the soldiers’ hands- will you see to that?”

Aramis nodded, relaxed and to attention again in moments.

“And he needs more horses. I’m not sure…” She pulled the sheets aside, and Aramis gave her a robe to tie over her nightgown. “You may need me.”

Waving away the ladies in waiting, she and Aramis sat elbow to elbow, writing letters and orders, each sealed and signed by Anne to hurry the process along.

“We may as well send more ammunition,” she said, writing a note to a blacksmith. “He should receive all this within the week, Aramis.”

“I’ll see to it,” he said, leaving with the orders in hand.

She wished to return to bed, but too full of nervous energy she walked around the gardens, still in her nightclothes. She would return before the palace woke up.

The cold, dewy air was fresh against her skin, and the paths well walked. She needn’t think too much, but she did notice that the guard following her disappeared. It almost troubled her, until Aramis materialised at her side as though he’d been walking her the whole time.

They daren’t hold hands, but he told her that the plans to help Porthos were in motion and they fell quiet, each other’s presence enough to soothe. It seemed as though the birds had slept as little as they had, twittering as the the first trickles of sunlight crept over them. Aramis and Anne redirected their route back to the palace.

“Did Porthos send any other letters?”

Aramis smiled. “One to Elodie, his wife. He left d’Artagnan and I a note in it.”

“What did it say?”

“It told us not to get into too much trouble, and that we were probably useless without him.”

“You are such _brothers_ ,” she said, and he grinned. “You’re the first to knock each other down but heaven forbid someone else try it.”

“Was your brother like that?”

Anne blinked, but recovered. Aramis wouldn’t mind if she said spoke well of Philip. “In Spain, yes, he had a great sense of fun. He rather delighted in conspiring with me to find the most difficult hiding places in the palace. We were friends.”

“You could write to him, now.”

“We are at war,” she said, fingers holding the necklace at her throat. “And besides, I have a sister.”

Aramis frowned.

“Constance.”

Grinning, he nodded. “Should I worry you tell her everything?”

“Worrying is futile, I tell her everything regardless.”

He laughed, opening a door for her with a little too much flourish to be serious, and walked her to her quarters, assuring her she could sleep if she wished. Shaking her head at his persistence, she dressed and they woke their son together.

**Author's Note:**

> oh, and can we just congratulate me on my use of ‘oft’ thank you and goodnight


End file.
